


I'm killing myself for your love

by Silversonne



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Death of the Family (2013)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Orgasm Delay, Under-negotiated Kink, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silversonne/pseuds/Silversonne
Summary: “You don’t want to be eaten alive by yourself, and I don’t want to become a shadow,” Joker spoke without pauses, and Batman didn’t interrupt him, didn’t take away his hand, even when Joker wrapped his fingers around the wrist, pressing down closer.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne, Joker/Batman
Comments: 4
Kudos: 143





	I'm killing myself for your love

**Author's Note:**

> When reading and rereading comic book “Death of the Family” multiple times, the author got the impression that Joker “without the face” was older than Batman by five years at least. And this Bruce is rather sensitive to all expression of the foreigners’ emotions, though he tries to be reserved, but it is noticeable in his relationship with the Bat-Family and in his pull to genial, family companionship. However, eventually he is left alone with Joker’s photo at the end of the comic book. This Joker dominates over him in emotional sense, but it doesn’t make Bruce (Batman) weak, merely unveils him through the weak points as a man, who is capable of compassion, but simply doesn’t understand, how to apply it in Joker’s case. I guess, both of them do not comprehend, what happens between them, and how to live on with this.
> 
> Arts, which inspired this fanfic:  
> 1) Joker, who is either crying or laughing (black and white variant) - https://yadi.sk/i/xIej5xppgpVT8g (the artist is Buttman)  
> 2) colored variant - https://yadi.sk/i/4PVatuo5zTeiiQ (the artist is Buttman)  
> 3) saving hand - https://yadi.sk/i/Ax5pjc6aKZXNpA (I don’t know who the artist is)  
> 4) delightful fool’s cap and love - https://yadi.sk/i/V9ErwjFPf7I0ZA (I don’t know who the artist is)
> 
> I want to thank the translator for this amazing job :)))

There was a promise of rainy and chilly weather for the day. Bruce drew the curtain, and sat on the edge of the bed, hugging the Batman mask to his abdomen. He felt dizzy, and got nauseous, if he turned sharply or bent down.

“Alfred will scold me again…” Bruce thought and smiled involuntarily. The butler, who was like a father to him, hated, when Bruce sat on the fresh linen in the Batman costume.

The thoughts of Alfred were always as a glass of fresh juice in the heat of summer or a cup of hot tea in winter. It helped to make a pause and take a breath, see the whole picture clearer. But now...

He didn’t know what to do next. Crazy meeting with Joker on the bridge, fall into the water, toxin, nightmares, it seemed, all that happened five minutes ago rather than yesterday. The body rang the alarm, which Batman had to ignore, because one awkward conversation with the Bat-Family was surely not enough. Of course, they worried about him. Even Todd. But it was necessary to find Joker as soon as possible despite the feeling of foreboding in his gut. Batman swallowed poisoned river-water, and toxin not only got in his blood, but also soaked in the stomach walls. Haunting images and incessant headache tormented him even in his waking hours.

“Master Bruce, you should probably let your friends know…”

“What happened, Alfred?”

The butler eased onto a chair beside Batman, and fatherly squeezed his knee.

“Computer traced Joker’s location, but you shouldn’t go there alone, especially after what happened.”

“No, Alfred, I don’t want to get them involved. Joker aims just for this to manipulate me. I won’t forgive myself, if something happens to them. I shouldn’t be led by him, this is all only about me and him. Send me his coordinates.”

“No, sir, you still haven’t come round, and toxin…”

“Alfred, I’m okay. Prepare the equipment, and we’ll take action following the tried out scheme, just you and me. Alright?”

“Of course, master Bruce. Just you and me. And this madman…”

During the last few days Alfred looked haggard, and aged dramatically. Bruce distinctly discerned melancholy in his calm voice that the butler never raised, but didn’t say anything and didn’t ask. This melancholy was unheard of before. It was impossible to tell whether Alfred believed him or not because of his blank and stern face.

Cursing himself for inappropriate reticence, Bruce stood up, patted Alfred on the back, put on the mask, and left the room. He felt crappy, anxiety spread its black wings in his heart.

Batmobile noiselessly drove onto the territory of the abandoned factory and started weaving along the old beech alleys. Twilight engulfed the trees, which looked like multiarmed giants, the sun set into a red cloud behind them. Its rays barely found the way in the labyrinth of great trunks, flashing like faraway beacon lights in the raging ocean.

Batman checked the perimeter, found no Joker’s henchmen, and headed for the ajar main entrance door. He activated his night vision, and sent a short message to Alfred, saying that he was looking around the place. Alfred answered that he didn’t detect any movement neither between the trees surrounding the factory, nor on the roof and in the broken windows, baring its glass fangs.

“I wonder if he is still here, or this is a diversion”, Batman thought, and then he noticed a tiny moving light on the second floor of this huge inhospitable building.

“Of course, he is here”, he told himself. If Joker did not want this meeting, he would not leave obvious signs of his presence. For him – for Batman. If the police were not here still, they were not informed about the happenings. Perhaps, it was for the best.

Joker attempted to stun him on the dark staircase, and he almost succeeded. Dodging and abruptly moving to the side, Batman was able to notice furious disappointment on his distorted face, when a crowbar crashed, disappearing in the stair well. Joker lost his advantage of unexpectedness, and retreated.

“Last time we were interrupted, darling. But it was our fault, wasn’t it? We didn’t hang the sign “Do not disturb” on the door. And we have lots to discuss, Batsy. Only it is impossible to chat with you, when you are so… serious and tense. When you are not tied hand and foot.”

Joker giggled and lunged at his adversary with renewed strength, a hammer in his hand whizzed past Batman’s head dangerously close. But Joker missed as Batman grasped his wrist before he could complete his attack, dived under his arm, twisting it and pushing the madman to the wall beside a window. Joker reached for a shard of glass lying on a window sill with his free hand, and hit Batman’s shoulder, but armored material withstood the hit. He took another swing, but Batman caught this hand too, forcing him to unclench his fist, turned Joker to the wall, hitting his face against it, and threw him aside.

Joker skidded on the floor littered with broken glass, stones and metal scraps, without getting hurt by some miracle.

“I told you, it is impossible to have a conversation with you, when you are not tied. You know, how I adore this about you, darling. But not today. Today I want attention… of another sort.”

“Shut up, Joker. It won’t happen today, tomorrow or ever. If you want to talk, we’ll talk in Arkham. I’m sick and tired of your damned tricks,” Bruce lost it. “It was so peaceful, when you licked your wounds and left everyone alone in this city.”

“Filthy bat, do you want to get under my skin? Tease with hate and indifference? I don’t believe you. Admit it, you’ve missed me. You went mad without your beloved jester, not knowing where to apply your intellect, your power and madness. You grew soft, because I wasn’t beside you! Are you afraid to confess? Tough luck, Batsy, I am just the same as you – a professional liar. And, as a liar, I am able to discern truth from lies.”

He jumped on Batman, painfully hitting him in the shoulder with a heavy boot.

Batman turned, taking the blow, and pushed Joker off. This sharp turn caused a flash, but it didn’t result in headache and dizziness, pain-killers, which he managed to take on the way to the factory, kicked in.

Joker stumbled and cursed. It was uncomfortable for him: the feeling of the constantly slipping mask, lack of skin on the face and lack of eyelids, protecting the eyes, disturbed him, dreadfully distracting him from the fight. He howled with the comprehension that he made himself inexcusably vulnerable in front of his beloved enemy. Hating himself for the discomfort, which couldn’t be relieved by ointments, and eye drops, he tried to reach his rival’s neck, hit with enough force to stun him. Five minutes would be enough to turn Batman into a good listener. But Batman surpassed him once more, he grabbed Joker’s face, bunching up skin edges and hooking fingers into the muscular tissue, lifted him slightly, and tossed aside like an annoying puppy.

“Screw you!” Joker shrieked, rising up to his knees. He lowered his head, ceasing all attempts to fight. He whimpered that his face hurt and tingled because of disgusting, unbidden tears. “Don’t touch my face! I just wanted to talk…”

“You have an odd way of talking, Joker.” Batman paused, looking at him quizzically.

“It’s not fair.” Joker frenziedly rubbed his face, trying to wipe these wretched tears, but only made everything worse.

Batman shouldn’t buy into this, but something stung inside his chest. Damn it! He felt that Joker was not pretending. Batman came right up to him, dropped to one knee, and pulled Joker’s hands from his face.

“Don’t touch, that’s enough,” he said strictly, looking down upon a slumping tall thin man, who looked like a crazed furious demon with fiery coal-black eyes, just a moment ago in the semi-darkness of a spacious room, but now this demon was vanquished, and his desperate tears could burn even through a rock.

Joker froze, and then grabbed his hand not to hit, not to push off, but rather to press his mutilated cheek against it. The touch of cool smooth glove soothed the pain, and the tingling. He felt good and calm, it was absolutely quiet inside.

“Joker,” Batman called him.

He was taken aback by Joker’s behavior and waited for a ruse, but it was missing. Probably, Batman should meet him halfway and have a talk. Time after time, Alfred reminded Bruce that not everything is solved by brute force, perhaps, it was the time to employ another tactics. Talk to Joker, hear him out, if necessary. After all, Batman couldn’t always ignore his own desire to find out what drove Joker apart from his madness. 

“If you want to talk, let’s do it. Let’s resolve everything among us. You called me over here just for that, right? You wanted me to find you. You want this too… merely to talk without fighting.”

“Even if I don’t want to fight you every time, what of it?” Joker hissed. “I can’t control myself, do you understand? Sometimes I hate you to death, because it is lost on you, how perfect you could be beside me. You would fall into the hungry maws of your own monsters without me, and I… I would become a useless shadow of a jester, pure madness without you. You don’t want to be eaten alive by yourself, and I don’t want to become a shadow. Do you understand? We are similar to… a voice and an echo in the mountains. If not for me, you wouldn’t hear yourself. If not for you, I would cease to exist, and it’s all the same altogether.”

Joker spoke without pauses, and Batman didn’t interrupt him, didn’t take away his hand, even when Joker wrapped his fingers around the wrist, pressing down closer. And then Joker abruptly pulled away, curled in on himself, staying on his knees, and covered his head with his hands.

It was impossible to puzzle out whether he was crying or laughing hysterically.

Berating himself for recklessness and goddamned kindheartedness, Bruce hugged Joker, this trembling, cruel, but apparently very unhappy and lonely man. He put one hand on Joker’s knee, squeezed his shoulder with another hand, bending towards him and pressing his chest to Joker’s back.

All that was happening resembled reality least of all. How could Batman perceive the words of this man? He knew, the moment he ended the hug, everything would instantaneously be as before. He thought that everything could be the other way round, that maybe he was the monster. As a matter of fact it was perfectly clear that Joker needed him despite all his rage, blood-lust and perversion, but he stubbornly pretended that noticed nothing. Joker needed him, Batman, rather than some abstract. And various crazy actions, hate, despair, desire to destroy and crush Batman’s world, all that likely resulted from the inhuman attraction. Batman tried to chase these dangerous musings away, but it was as good as to send a cloud of bats flying. Either the toxin made him excessively sensitive, or Joker was inexplicably real and miserable in his arms. Unusual. New. Unfamiliar. Oppressive and alluring. “For Batman or for Bruce?” The answer was unknown.

And Joker didn’t even try to break free from the hug. At first, he felt sick of himself, because his thoughts and desires didn’t always match up to his words and actions. Steady warmth of Batman took all his doubts away, it was his king, it was not shameful to show weakness in his embrace. Just a little, a little bit more, as the king protects all his lieges, even a jester.

“Bats, I want you to do something… for me,” he felt it hard to speak because of a spasm in his throat. “Promise me, you’ll do as I ask.”

“Joker, I won’t promise you anything,” Batman tried to make his words sound as soft as possible without pulling away from the hug.

“Ba-a-a-ts…”

“What?”

“I won’t ask you to kill someone. You don’t have to do it even at my request. No maiming, trust me.”

Batman sighed. He had no clue, if he should get involved in this game with promises.

“Okay. Spill,” he decided to risk it after all. Joker needed help, probably the question was about Batman’s technologies and regeneration of the lost face. In this case he could think about keeping the promise and even doing something that was in his power.

Joker sighed with relief. He didn’t believe that Batman could agree so easily. It was incredible. The best gift to receive from his king. His heart, mad with happiness, was pounding furiously. One crazy idea possessed him like an avalanche seizing rocks and gravel scattered on the mountain slope. He didn’t plan anything like that, leaving traces for Batman since the very morning, but he already knew, what he desperately wanted to get from his king.

Joker broke away from the embrace and bolted, running outside, into the unkept old garden behind the factory, knowing that Batman would follow him. Amongst the beeches and maples there was an entrance to Gotham’s caves. It was abandoned, halfway blocked with rocks and last year’s leaves, lost in thick greenery and windbreak. Beautiful icy lake played hide-and-seek with the trees deeply underground, Joker used its purest water for his chemical experiments more than once.

He ran right to the lake, past the chambers cluttered with split boulders, deftly surmounting obstacles, since he was holed up here for the whole year after Dollmaker’s operation. Pausing by the hiding place with the fool’s cap, he fished out his favorite item, shook off the dust, threw it on a rock and jumped into the icy water, feeling as though thousands of needles pierced his skin.

Pursuing Joker, Batman nearly lost sight of him: at first it happened between shaggy shadows in the abandoned garden, and then in the labyrinth of underground passages. Once again he followed the trail of Joker, relying on the intuition as a hound, sniffing out any hint at his presence. Batman heard a splash in the adjacent chamber. He nearly impaled himself upon a prickly stalagmite, sprawled as a sea urchin and creepily winking with fireflies. Batman looked around. Pale blue splashes of light fluttered at the ankles level beyond the monstrous stalagmite. There was a horizontal pass, dangerously narrow, but sufficient to squeeze through on the stomach for a man with his build. Pressing his body to the ground, he crawled, pulling himself forward using his hands, feeling tons of wet rocks above him – a silent witness of their chase. It took Batman enormous amount of time. For certain, Joker knew some concealed, easier passage from one chamber to another, as he outran him by that much.

“Are you out of your mind?” he exclaimed, seeing the star-fished Joker’s body in perfectly clear water.

Bat-claw pulled this damned madman out of the lake onto the stone floor. Joker coughed, spitting water. Drawing up his legs, he shrank into himself, clattering with the teeth and sniffling, gradually recovering from the chilly vice that froze his heart. “That’s what the victims of Freeze feel, I reckon,” Joker thought.

“Why did you do this? Do you want to die right in front of me, you sick bastard?” Batman lost his temper, and came right up to Joker, squatted down and felt his pulse. It would be right to take him to Arkham to get medical assistance, but his heart could stop beating any moment due to the thermal shock. Joker was silent, shivering with chills. He whimpered, shaking all over, and Batman, without skipping a beat, began pulling off boots and coveralls of shivering Joker.

Then he unfastened his armor, took off the suit, leaving only briefs and his mask. Batman huddled closer to Joker, wrapped them both with his cape, cursing Joker’s goddamned insanity, and his own stupidity, but still trying to warm him with his body.

They lay so some time. It seemed as though Joker fell asleep, burrowing his ice-cold forehead into Batman’s chest, while Batman stroked his back and arms, trying to warm him up as quickly as possible. Water flew down the darkened green hair in cold trickles. Joker’s palm that grabbed glass when fighting was bleeding, and Batman, sliding his hand from under the cape, reached his belt by feel, found the needed section and fetched a band aid. Joker didn’t resist, and allowed to put it on a deep cut. He got warm little by little, breathed evenly, quieter and deeper with every minute. Only his bony shoulders shivered involuntarily due to water running down on them, but even shivering stopped soon. It got hot.

Joker started fidgeting, getting rid of the cape.

“Come on, out with it. What did you wa…”

“Shh, don’t say anything,” Joker whispered, his palm suddenly appeared between Batman’s legs.

He was shaking all over again, but it was caused by the nearness of the beloved king rather than the cold. Joker looked at him with a swamp haze in his eyes, trembling with anticipation and realization that his king was nearby: hot, naked, more approachable than usually. Without the armored suit. Joker sensed the strength hidden in Batman with his fingertips. It was similar to the current discharge. He touched his chest, stomach, groin, losing the touch with reality at the giddy thought that Batman could completely belong to him, become his, Joker’s. For real. If only he wouldn’t ruin it! Blasted, malignant, unpredictable bat! Precious king!

“If you don’t want me to be your family, I could be…” Joker whispered tentatively, but immediately pulled himself together, and touched Batman’s nipple with his tongue, leaving a timid moist stroke.

Bruce got embarrassed, tried to push him aside, but Joker clung to him like a vice, pouncing upon him. Bruce’s thoughts were in a muddle, because Joker managed to put his hand into Batman’s briefs, and touched his cockhead with his thumb. He did it slowly, barely brushing the skin. Bruce drew up his legs instinctively and gripped the bastard’s wrist, halting his hand. Although he should have punched Joker in his pleased brazen face.

“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped at Joker, who looked him right in the eye.

“You promised to do anything I ask for except for a murder and all this shit, so… I am asking. How often do I ask for anything? Just relax. Please. If you don’t like that, we won’t try this type of relationship between us.”

“There is no relationship between us, Joker. Take your hands off! Or else…”

“Or else, Batsy, despite adoring your arrogance, I’d make it so that your helpers…”

“Don’t’ you dare threaten me. I tried to help you, and you…”

“Don’t get worked up, darling. How could I hurt your loyal subjects, if you give me a chance… One chance, Ba-a-ats? See? I can be grateful as well.”

Having received no answer, Joker licked Batman’s nipple bolder with a long sweeping motion, and traced an irregular half-circle on the Bat’s cockhead with his thumb. He pulled out his hand, deliberately slowly licked his fingers… And Bruce didn’t manage to push this nasty madman away, and a white hand pulled his briefs down, freeing his hard cock.

Bruce hadn’t had sex for a long time, and now he berated himself for the fact that his body didn’t obey him, it was like stupor, he couldn’t concentrate to put the madman in his place. Either the toxin had still effect on him and got in the way of sensible thinking, or… Bruce tried to persuade himself that his body wanted Joker solely because he hadn’t fucked anyone for a long time: by day he was busy with the corporation, at night he conducted investigations and caught criminals, and Joker used the surprise effect.

The abject horror of the situation was that not only his body wanted Joker… all his feelings went mad entering on the sole absurd desire to find out, how strong and reckless was the thing, which Joker called love.

“That’s enough…” Bruce wrenched himself free from the fog, which engulfed him.

It came out unconvincing.

“Shh… You like it, in fact…” Joker straddled Batman in one swift movement, and pressed his thumb to Batman’s lips. It was salty and dry.

And Bruce felt that he blushed, when a finger slipped past his parted lips and sank into his mouth.

“Your… big bat,” he looked down and giggled delightedly, “is ready for the experiments. No one will find out, I promise. Please, Bats. I don’t want to force you.”

“If you don’t want to force me, get off me.”

“Not wanting to force and not forcing are two different things, darling. I know, you want to see what I can offer,” Joker interrupted him angrily.

His frightful mouth was very close, Joker almost touched Batman’s face with his half-decayed skin. It was terrible and… infernally pleasant, because a long tongue was already licking his lips, chin and tip of the nose, while his head was turned to the side. The tongue left a wet strip from his lips to the neck. Joker gently bit skin near his ear, one hand held Bruce’s head, caressing his skin along the mask edges, another hand pressed two hardening cocks together, stroking them.

“Don’t,” Bruce asked barely audible and… closed his eyes. It was his turn to tremble now, and these damned unrealistic, desperate touches made the whole world narrow down to the man straddling him. So thin and almost transparent in the dense shadows of the cave. “Please.”

“My shy little bat, my king,” Joker whispered gently, biting his neck harder, more painful. “I’ll make you the happiest man. Shh. We are not doing anything bad, we are not killing anyone, not maiming.”

He slid down, peppering Batman’s chest with wet touches of his tongue.

“Jo-o-o…” His rebellion was cut short, because Bruce whined, when the tongue sensitively pressed to the tip of his cock, moved up and paused.

“What do you say, little bat? Do you like that?”

“No,” Bruce answered hastily.

“You are ly-i-i-ing,” Joker drawled gleefully. “I feel everything, and I want to know the whole of you. Can you even imagine, how hard it was to perceive the deeply hidden desires… in your eyes? But I succeeded,” Joker summed it up, pleased with himself. “My king rules over the night Gotham, but in bed he wants to be adored, to forget who he is for everyone. That’s why you are so stressed, cause you’ve never had something like this? My sullen, lonely little bat, you’ll grow to like every inch of my body, since I’m just a jester, who fulfills your wishes. I’ll be able to shield you from everyone, who would want to make you weak.”

Batman ground his teeth. It was too much.

“Is it possible that he will stop at nothing… what is he talking about? ” Bruce groaned, losing his train of thought, pressed his palm to his lips, and sunk his teeth in it, if only to avoid moaning, and showing how enjoyable these tender imposed touches were. Hot. Teasing. Enjoyable words, which were provocative, indecently arousing, finding its way under his skin, biting the sore spots and immediately licking the wounds with promises.

Bruce couldn’t comprehend, why he was still under Joker, why he didn’t fight, allowing him to do anything like that. His silly heart was still clenching at the thought how was it to be Joker. To hate, to rage, to make grand insane plans, to flirt with fate, to believe in a made-up fairy tale about the king, or to lie about it skillfully, to go out of his mind due to obsession with him, with Batman, to hate and to grow weary of oneself.

Meanwhile, Joker became very enthusiastic, he enfolded the cock with his hand, swallowing it, licking it, circling with his tongue, he played with tender spots, freed the cock from hot captivity, smeared precome, and swallowed again. His hand was subtly shaking either with arousal or with nerves. Bruce sensed this strange nervousness with his skin. Joker wanted to be the best, and Bruce realized with horror that no one had eve given him such a tender and breathtaking blow job. With such enjoyment, such dedication and love. It seemed abnormal, improbable, wild, absurd. Bruce was out of his mind, considering he still hadn’t stopped all this.

Joker was nervous, his hands, now hot and wet with saliva, precome and blood, which surged to them, were seemingly erratic in roaming over Bat’s thighs, groin and abdomen.

And Bruce was ready to come consumed with unexpected, strong, unbearable sensations, but wet caresses deceived him, moving from his groin to abdomen, and higher, then captured a peaked nipple, teased it, and surged even higher, to his neck, touched his mouth. Joker licked Batman’s parted lips, slipped inside his mouth, tickling his palate with the tip. Bruce pressed his lips instinctively, trying to make the kiss a traditional one, heavy, lingering. But Joker jolted sideways.

“No, no, no, you know, I can’t. My little bat, I can’t kiss you like that,” Joker murmured conspiratorially, and Bruce was shocked by the realization that he just trued to kiss the non-existent lips…

Bruce growled. He wanted to wipe the floor with Joker… and fuck him non-stop. He attempted to shove Joker aside, lie down on him, press to the ground, beat up in revenge for the taunts, push the cock between his legs. But Joker painfully pressed Bruce’s hands to the floor, rubbed their cocks together, and “kissed” his neck again with the tip of his tongue.

“You’ll get everything, I promise. Hold your horses.”

It seemed as though this filthy bastard read his thoughts. He slipped his hand between them, but Bruce gripped it, foul desire to touch Joker himself overcame him. He touched his cock, ran his fingers from the head to the base, feeling how Joker reacted to the touch, shivering and breathing though his nose. He wanted to keep caressing Joker, but his hand was roughly pushed aside. Miffed, Bruce repeated the attempt, but was rejected again.

Bruce frowned. A thought that Joker, probably, didn’t like his touch made his hackles rise.

“Is it unpleasant for you?”

“Yes.”

“You are lying. I can tell it from the look in your eye,” Bruce vehemently said again.

Joker’s reaction got under his skin.

“Just don’t touch me, okay?”

At that moment Joker awfully wanted to sock this Bat, preferably gut-punch him with all his might, because the touches were way too pleasant. Way too exciting. He felt blood surging to his face, and it began aching. Any touch of Batman was too desirable. Joker was used to feeling him through the clothes, not when he was naked and helpless, when one touch was enough to have goose bumps on his skin, mutilated by chemicals. He didn’t want Batman to see him weak. He wanted to be dissolved in him, and hated himself for this. As soon as the king sensed his weakness, everything would be ruined. Everything would be in vain. All other preparations would go up in smoke. He was nearby to make the king strong. Happy and miserable simultaneously, but by no means feeling, how good it was for his court jester just to be close by without any titles, promises and battles, without this foolish hate and endless feud game, without proof, which family was better, for no special reason. For the simple reason that Batman’s hands could be both gentle and cruel.

“Don’t,” Joker said once more. “Please, I’ll do everything myself…”

Joker slipped his hand between them and started jerking off. His hand and cock rubbed against Bruce’s cock, and Bruce threw his head back, closing his eyes, it was unbearably, incredibly pleasant. He couldn’t stop Joker, but also couldn’t come because of erratic friction, faltering for a fraction of a second. If only Joker touched him again, caressed, gave blow job, anything. Did it to Bruce nut not himself. Bruce clenched his teeth, Heaven forbid he asked this filthy madman of such a thing.

“Kiss me,” he heard Joker’s breathless voice. “Ba-a-ats.”

Bruce growled, drawing Joker against him, pressing his palms into the small of his back to be closer, tighter, so that Joker finally did something to him. But he couldn’t make himself kiss Joker. It was too much…

“Naughty… naughty bat,” Joker snarled. ”Fuck, Ba-a-ats, I’m… ah…”

He came abruptly, covering Batman’s lower abdomen with his seed.

Bruce flared up like a coal in the flame of a fire, when Joker began smearing his warm come on his cock. Bruce flushed crimson immediately. Joker’s fingers slid up and down, until Bruce’s cock was captured into the wet fist. The motions were slippery, moist, producing a sticky sound that dissolved buzz in his head. Bruce bit his lip, moaning, trying to move in sync, and then he felt, how a slick finger pressed to his anus, pushed slightly, entered shallowly, then the second finger followed, the fingers smoothly stretched the walls in single rhythmical movements.

Choking on indignation and… desire, Bruce didn’t even have a chance to curse: Joker’s cock slid against his own. Drenched in sweat, he pressed his forehead to Batman’s chest, and moaned softly, sensing the hardening of Batman’s cock, smeared with his come. He sped up the motions, until Bruce pressed against him, coming because of the heat between them, sticky smacks and sliding, because of the caressing tongue.

Getting to the welcome finish, Bruce wanted to get free, to collect himself, but instead of this Joker sit up, reached for the fool’s cap, put it on, and began settling down more comfortably. These slight to and fro rocking motions made the bells jingle, there were silver bells, tiny colorful drums and little bats, carved from wood, and painted with dark-purple opalescent color. The latter were clearly made and sewn down by Joker personally.

“Do you like it? I’m sure, there isn’t any jester like me in the whole world. You are lucky, Bats,” Joker chattered lazily, smearing their mixed come on Bruce’s chest, drawing obscene patterns. Joker finished playing, propped two hands on Batman’s abs, rubbing his stiffened cock against Batman. His green eyes sparkled excitedly, greedily looking upon his king.

“And there is more, my little bat, it will get even more pleasant…”

With one abrupt movement Joker raised himself, shifting backwards – the bells jingled – and pulled Bruce’s legs to his waist.

Three fingers, liberally coated with come down to the base, pushed into him without hindrance. Bruce clenched his teeth with nagging, dull pain, and then with bright flare of pleasure, because this obnoxious madman found a sensitive spot, and massaged it.

“Stop,” Bruce croaked.

“Don’t interfere!” Joker leaned forward, sweeping his tongue along Batman’s jaw. “Stay obedient a little longer. And then you can arrest me,” he giggled.

The fingers slipped out, stroking the pulsing, aching entrance.

Bruce gritted his teeth, biting his tongue till it bled. He saw a figure shining with sweat and moisture, milk-white as snow in mountains, in a bright orange and purple three-pointed cap, which jingled without a break. Long tails of the cap trembled, attracting Bruce’s attention. The view was so mesmerizing that Bruce managed to throw Joker off relying on the willpower alone. He groaned, painfully landing on his back. Bruce attempted to crawl away, but Joker knocked him down on the stone floor again. Sluggish hook pushed Joker aside, Bruce pounced on him, pressing to the floor, looking eagerly into the pupils, dilated with arousal, clasping the purple tail of the cap: miniature bats painfully stuck into his palm with sharp edges. He surrendered, because Joker smiled unusually. His forcedly stretched smile held... Joker’s hand easily broke free from the weakened grip, squeezed between their bodies, stroked Batman’s cock, gathered remaining come from his abdomen, and slowly smeared it on his own cock. Joker arched under him, and caressed himself again, shamelessly moaning in pleasure pulling inside his guts.

“And now we change places,” he ordered and turned the gasping bat over: put him on his back, slotted his cock between the buttocks. Pushed. “Trust me. No one will know. This will be OUR precious secret, our connection. And fuck the whole world — just a jester and his loyal king. Oops, or the other way round.”

“No, don’t… I mean… ah… yes, fuck, I hate you… hate you… please…”

Bruce couldn’t put up worthy resistance anymore.

Forgetting that all the happening was monstrous, insane, immoral, they both were shivering not only with arousal, but also with strange, inexplicable agitation. Joker shook even worse than Bruce, but he miraculously controlled the situation, where Batman not just surrendered, but accepted complete defeat even prior to the first round, leaving Bruce to sort everything out.

Joker pushed inside him, not deep at first, pulled back and pressed forward again, a bit deeper. Three shallow and one deep thrust, three shallow and one deep. Hateful jester didn’t want it to end too quickly, so he abruptly lifted his hips from time to time, leaving only about an inch of his cock inside, stayed so for a moment without moving and breathing. And then he resumed the thrusts, alternating painful and deep with shallow and teasing. He aimed for the sensitive spot, and climaxed before Bruce. Thick trickle of come stretched after his cock, leaking down the legs. Bruce moaned, and blushed, covering his face with hands, wishing for the only thing – for the continuation.

“Joker, ple-e-ease,” he whispered feverishly.

“My boy, my king,” husky, deep voice made goose bumps run down Bruce’s spine.

Joker moved lower, and Bruce felt the touch of a tongue on his buttocks. He teased, until Bruce whined in desperation, jerked in an attempt to break free and stop this torture. But strong hands kept him in place, pulled his buttocks apart. Joker slowly traced the pulsing ring of quivering muscles with his tongue, licking off his own come mixed with ichor, watching the beloved king from under the fool’s cap that slipped down on his forehead. Two fingers slid inside, massaged the prostate, and Bruce choked on his moan. He climaxed quickly, drawing in on himself, and barely refrained from bursting into tears with overflowing emotions resembling fireworks. He froze, wishing for one thing only: for Joker to draw him as close and as strong as possible against his chest. And let him feel shame. Not now. After that. When everything would be finished, and they would become enemies again. When he would catch him on the streets of Gotham, fight on the roofs and bridges, drag him by the collar to Batmobile, drive him to Arkham.

His throat constricted: nothing would ever be the same.

It seemed as though Joker yet again heard his thoughts, hugged him tight, turning on the side, facing him, and wrapped his legs around. Then he patted him on the head, stroking between the mask ears, the cheekbones and near the sniffling nose.

“Hush,” his pitiful forever-smiling mouth whispered. It didn’t irritate and frighten any longer. “You can hate me. As fiercely as you want. I’ll always be at your side, I promise.”

Bruce didn’t respond, he couldn’t even think about the thing that started it, how it happened, that he lay beside his arch-enemy, snuggling up to him from head to toe. He touched a funny black and red drum, and the hand-made bat, lying on Joker’s shoulder, put his palm on the wet, hot, white chest, and closed his eyes. It was possible to take a minute and lie down, thinking of nothing. It was not important, what would happen after that. It was not important, what Joker would do tomorrow. Batman would sort everything out. Or almost everything. You never know.

“One day I’ll kill you,” Bruce promised heatedly.

Joker smirked softly, and Bruce thought that they shouldn’t lie on the stone floor, and sank into darkness. When he woke up, Joker was no longer there.

He lay there, enveloped in the cape, so that not a part of his body touched the cold stone. Carefully folded clothes and complete set of ammunition lay nearby. Water dripped down the walls, Bruce listened to the monotonous sound, the sound of stalactite and stalagmite creation. His heart was calm, just like the eye of the storm.

After an icy bath, it took an eternity to put on clothes: his mind was foggy, hid body ached terribly. He burned the cape, stained with come. Looking at the dying out flames, he gave himself a promise to deal with the madman once and for all, and only then he left the cave, pushing through the narrow passage with difficulty, returned to the Batmobile, and gunned it out of here. Leaving the factory territory, he didn’t even turn back to look at the old, dense garden, frightening with its creaky trees. The dawn was near.

Returning to the mansion, Bruce listened to the lecture on his irresponsibility, keeping a straight face, wearily brushed off Alfred’s questions about what happened, where his cape was, where Joker was, and why Bruce didn’t answer the phone and didn’t respond to the messages. Alfred tailed after him, until Bruce asked to leave him alone. Lunch, explanations, medical check — everything could wait. Anyway there was nothing to tell.

He sprawled on the bed not taking off his clothes, looked at the ceiling for a long time, feeling nothing as though his whole body was numb. Joker did something terrible to him — found the way to his heart, and scratched a confession with his perverted, cruel love without pain relief. Somewhere deep inside Joker there was a little child, who needed love just like Bruce, but insanity, bygone traumas distorted his dreams, turned his affection into obsession, and longing for a family – into pain, which pushed him to commit dreadful actions. Bruce understood that it was not his fault, but he couldn’t brush Joker off. Ferocious sense of responsibility for the unwanted man gripped his body. Bruce held his emotions at bay, furiously clenching his teeth, and only under the hot shower, he broke into tears like a child, impotently, because he got what he had dreamt about for a long time, and what he had lacked bitterly — maddening tenderness and love, but from the man he’d better stay away for good.


End file.
